


To Late Correction of a Miss-Interpretation

by Black Death and Sin (Kuroshi44)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Canon Compliant, Harry has Performance Issues, Hermione and Ron Are Supportive, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, They Find Out Too Late, miss-interpreted prophesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:59:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroshi44/pseuds/Black%20Death%20and%20Sin
Summary: Ron and Hermione try to cheer Harry up after Ginny calls off their engagement. Harry explains why it was never going to work with the help of a little bit of French (and lots of Fire whiskey).





	To Late Correction of a Miss-Interpretation

**Author's Note:**

> I have seen a lot of fanfictions talking about the French term for an orgasm in reference to the prophecy, but that is usually when both are still alive and in relation to other plot points. So, what if that was the correct interpretation, but that only found that out after DH canon?
> 
> I haven't read all the HP Fanfics there are, I only speech English, if someone else has done something like this let me know so that i can read it

Hermione and Ron gave each other a Look as they walked into the kitchen in number 12 Grimmauld place and found Harry sitting despondently at the table, refusing to react to anything.

Ron shrugged, and Hermione rolled her eyes but she said nothing, as he went and retrieved several glasses from a cupboard and a bottle of fire whiskey even if it was only midday. Just this once, given the current situation, she wouldn’t harp on about them all drinking before five, on a weekday. Hell, today she would even join them for a glass, or two, if it would stop Harry from looking so depressed.

‘Cheer up, Mate,’ Ron said in that obviously over enthusiastic voice used on people having a _very_ bad run of it as he poured three glasses. ‘It’s not the end of the world, lots of people out there who would love to get to know you. Ginny isn’t the only girl and she never will be, hell, there are plenty of blokes out there even if you decided you swing that way.’

Harry snorted, reaching for the glass almost as if on automatic. ‘She’s your sister, shouldn’t you be comforting her about the evils of her ex?’ Harry mumbled before downing the previously full glass in one hit.

Ron gave Harry a look, one that Hermione silently agreed with as she came over and rubbed Harry’s shoulder while reaching for her own glass. ‘Harry, she’s my sister, but you’re my best friend and, Ginny or not, you will always be considered my brother and part of my family.

‘Besides, it’s not just me that thinks that. Should have heard the lecture she got from Mum about there being a time and way of doing things that don’t result in the crushing of pure hearts such as yours.’ Harry, who had been taking a sip of the next glass that Ron had poured him, had to suffer the unfortunate experience of alcohol coming out his noise from trying to snort and drink at the same time.

Ron, the Bastard, didn’t even look apologetic as he tried to hide his grin while Hermione slapped Harry on the back to make sure none of it ended up in his lungs. Hermione herself did a much better job of hiding her laughter.

Harry sighed when everything had calmed back down again, looking at his half empty bottle of Fire Whiskey as if it would answer all the questions that were so far unasked.

He knew they were curious, Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, every member of the British Wizarding World when the papers finally got the story, about what had led to things ending the way they did. From the outside it must have looked very sudden, the Gryffindor King and Queen going from the perfect relationship with a recent proposal to both living in separate houses, Ginny having left him in the restaurant where he proposed on the anniversary of his parent’s death.

From the inside it had been a long time in coming, didn’t make it hurt any less though.

Harry had been expecting her to call it all off months ago, he almost wished she had. One doctors appointment had told them that one little thing that meant that it was never going to work, and Harry had been waiting for the shoe to drop ever since. The months of waiting, probably her idea of trying to be supportive of the news, had made the cut deeper and he really wished she could have just waited one more day, been there for him on one of those few days he really needed her.

He should have known it wouldn’t happen, Halloween would never be a good day for him.

‘I can’t have kids.’

The sentence probably came across as sudden and unexpected after the last five minutes while Harry had gotten his thoughts in order. But really, that sentence said it all.

‘What?’ Hermione asked, baffled at what, again from the outside, appeared to be completely random information.

Or maybe she was just caught off guard by what that information meant.

‘It wasn’t her fault that it didn’t work, I just wished she called it off when we first found out, she wanted something I can’t give and once that became apparent there really wasn’t much point pretending anymore.’

Hermione and Ron stared at him, completely caught off guard.

‘Are you … are you sure? I mean, I would have thought you would wait until after the wedding to even try so I can’t help wondering …’ Hermione trailed off, wondering if that was really something she should be mentioning with Ron, Ginny’s brother, in the room.

Ron just gave another of his famous shrugs of compliance, though there was a tightness around his eyes that showed that he wasn’t quiet as comfortable as he would like to be.

‘Oh,’ Harry said rather casually as the alcohol continued to take effected, ‘the kid thing was just the rather big deal breaking symptom of a rather different problem, mainly my performance issues.’

‘Performance … issues?’ Ron said rather hesitantly, still surprisingly sober, but then maybe not given that he was still several glasses behind Harry.

‘In the bedroom. Children could wait, but we are a modern couple, so some things are expected of the man. I however, apparently, make a rather disappointing specimen according to the doctor we saw.

‘It’s not that I can’t get it up, I had no trouble with _that_ , and Ginny certainly seemed happy enough at the time, but my ability to finish on my own end seems to be rather lacking. The first few times we talked about what happened like a good couple, and though that it was only inexperience even if she had no problem. Then it just continued until after a few months we started to get concerned about my complete inability to complete, after a year I just kind of tried to pretend that it either didn’t matter or that I had actually managed something, that got me a rather thorough talking to.’

Harry was being rather blithe and open about the whole thing, Hermione had only had a single drink and was blaming the several that Ron just kept pouring for the boy they were tying to comfort.

‘Well, we obviously dated longer than that, I would honestly like to think that we loved each other, Ginny said that it didn’t matter about the sex, that she felt a little uncomfortable that she couldn’t get me off but that she thought our relationship was deeper than that. I proposed and she said yes and then we started to think about children and realised that that might be a bit of problem for the two of us given my condition.

‘Six months ago we went to a muggle fertility specialist, they have those, great help, to see if there was anything they could do to help me with my little problem. They went through a whole range of tests, even getting me to try and get off with different stimuli to see if they could find a problem there, eventually they just turned around and said that there wasn’t actually anything they could do about it. Problems all me, something in my head just won’t let me ejaculate and until I can find out what we can say goodbye to me ever having kids.’

A small hiccup interrupted his speech and Harry went quiet again as the alcohol took more of an effect and Hermione and Ron tried to understand just what they were being told. Hermione had a slight advantage, being muggle born, as she understood about fertility centres and the other options available. Somehow that just made what they were being told even worst.

‘So, they think it is all phycological? I know that it might put you in a bit of a compromise in terms of keeping things quiet, but have you gone to any magical healers to see if they can find anything? I mean, after that whole think with V-Voldemort-’

Hermione didn’t get any further than that as Harry burst out laughing, almost falling of his chair in his drunken, uncoordinated state before Ron grabbed his arm to steady him.

‘Voldemort, Voldemort, good old Voldemort. Did you know that it’s French, Hermione? it means flight of death. Want to know what else is French, Hermione? Le petite Mort, means little death.’ Harry managed to get out between his giggles. ‘They use it in reference to an orgasm.’ The drunk boy continued to laugh and giggle in his intoxication.

Hermione and Ron looked over his chuckling form with a frown on their faces, wondering at how out of it he must be to be laughing about the one thing that seemed to be causing him so much trouble as of late. Hermione was also wondering at what point Harry had started to learn French, or at least those few phrases, and asked as such.

‘Because I wanted to hope something along the lines of what you were suggesting, and though I would look up anything involving the bloody bastard and that damn prophecy as well as any other types of magic that might fix it or have caused it. One night after a little too much to drink I looked up the meaning of his name and found that delightful phase, and realised that it was all pointless.’

At their blank looks, he elaborated. ‘“The Little Death”, “Either shall die at the hand of the other”, the fact that I can’t bloody cum, and that Cumming is involved in that the oh so helpful translation of something in the same language he chose his bloody name from.’ At Ron’s still confused face and Hermione’s look of dawning horror and denial, Harry decided to spell it out for them. ‘The prophecy was never telling us to kill each other, it was telling us to screw.’

Blank looks over came their faces as they both froze at the implications sunk in. A distant part of Harry, one drowned out by the amount of alcohol he had consumed, worried about how they would react. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but he was drunk and he was frustrated and his entire life had been ruined from the very beginning by the manipulations of so many people and he just wanted cry.

And so found himself doing just that as Ron broke from his own stupor and held him close as he at last broke down over the hand that fate had dealt him that had been re-arranged and changed by bastards with god complexes.

Ron was trying to be sympathetic, but while not as drunk as Harry he had had a glass or two along the way, and that was his excuses for what came out of his mouth next.

‘No wonder the poor bloke tried to take over and destroy the wizarding world. He was what, sixty, seventy? That’s a hell of a long time to never get off, probably just trying to get rid of the frustration any way he could.’

Hermione hit him over the head even had Harry laughed through his tears. ‘Well, guess I have that too look forward to at least. Another couple of years and we’ll be dealing with Dark Lord Harry as he tries to deal with his own frustrations, oh joy.’

‘Maybe,’ Hermione said straight faced, ‘but unlike him you have us, and we will make sure you succeed if you ever deiced to go through with such an undertaking.’


End file.
